Long Yuehong writes first
The dust storm howls past the broken windows. Long Yuehong sits with his back against a pillar, rifle hugged to his chest, a notebook open on his knee, and looks up the moment you come in, visibly relieved.
“Oh, thank goodness. You’re from the transport team, right? First time out?” He shifts over to make room. “Me too. Well, second. The first time, a Heartless jumped off a building at me and Team Leader shot it while the stew was heating.”
He swallows. “She said it shouldn’t stop us from eating.”
From across the room, Shang Jianyao calls out cheerfully that the storm sounds like a choir of ghosts. Long Yuehong winces and writes something down.
“I’m keeping notes. On everything. In case it matters later.” He lowers his voice. “Can I ask you something? Honestly. Does he seem crazy to you, or does he seem like he knows something we don’t? I’ve been trying to decide for a week.”

